


A Florentine Vengeance

by escavatedanastasia



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Angst, Dark!Bunnymund, One Shot, also bunny is NOT a rapist in this gotta clear that up, god idk how to tag without giving too much away, i haven’t been this excited abt posting a fic in a while, it’s NOT a fetish thing, i’m trying to SURPRISE don’t get HORNY on me, side note whatever fucked up thing happens in this that I won’t tell u bc it’s secret, villain!bunnymund
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:07:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22842223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/escavatedanastasia/pseuds/escavatedanastasia
Summary: Jack thought Pitch had made off with Bunny, and after years of hoping and wondering, he’s finally accepting that another fellow Guardian is dead. But when he’s suddenly invited back and finds the Guardian of Hope is not only alive, but better than ever, Bunny quickly realizes he can’t keep his new secrets hidden for long.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 20





	A Florentine Vengeance

The Guardians hadn’t seen Bunny in decades. During the final battle in Burgess, North, Jack and Toothiana managed to destroy most of the nightmares with the help of the neighborhood kids, but in the end Pitch had managed to escape with the small rabbit as his prize the minute they weren’t looking.  
A bittersweet ceremony commenced afterwards, welcoming Jack Frost in as the Guardian of Fun, and they all vowed to always fight fear to avenge their fallen friends, Sandy and Bunny, wherever the latter may be.  
After several days of searching Pitch’s abandoned lair and Bunny’s destroyed warren, the trio reluctantly felt it was all a lost cause. Even Manny was solemnly silent to them all on that subject. Pitch had almost certainly murdered the Guardian of Hope.  
Tears were shed at the funeral held in the North Pole. They knew Bunny hated the cold of the tundra, but he would’ve hated them venturing into his warren without his knowledge even more. He hated so many things, Jack noted to himself through tears as his eyes bore into the emerald glass encasing the candles. A ring of fresh flowers, which were becoming increasingly difficult to find lately, surrounded an engraved depiction of the pooka. The silence was deafening from both ends.  
Vegetation suffered as a result of Bunny’s absence, and as much as memories, wonder and fun could bring the children of the world, the two missing pieces were jarringly obvious. Parents struggled to compensate for Easter, but the children all eventually caught on as they did on the fateful Easter that the Guardian of Hope lost his powers.  
Still, the remaining Guardians made the best with what they had. Of course they couldn’t forget about Bunny, and they still had moments where they’d remember him, but they swallowed the lumps in their throats and continued on.  
This was their new way of life for thirty years now. So why was Jack only now hearing Bunny’s voice echoing through his mind? Tooth and North couldn’t hear it, and they didn’t say anything, but Jack knew they wanted him to stop bringing up a possibility that Bunny could still be around. But the voice only kept getting louder as the days went by.

**Jack, I know you hear me.**

**Jack, quit ignorin’ me.**

**Jack, I’m still here.**

It was enough to make Jack scream. He felt like he did in Pitch’s lair, the spirit’s voice fading in and out, toying with him.  
This time, though, he gave in.  
“Where are you?” he asked aloud, sitting on the roof of Jamie’s old house. It was dusk, and in the midst of the cars taking their early commute to work, he managed to hear...  
Silence. It was like Manny all over again. Jack sighed in frustration before throwing himself onto the grass, fiddling with his staff and watching its intricate designs envelope the small yard. One patch of the grass, however, remained completely unscathed. In an act of perfectionism that, if it were anything but frost, would’ve earned Jack a gold star from the Easter Bunny himself, he stepped over to it and prodded the patch with his staff. The ice melted just as quickly, before the ground within the patch sunk in, creating an impossibly deep burrow.  
“No way,” Jack whispered as he peered over it into the darkness. Before any second thoughts could get the better of him, he clutched his staff tightly and jumped in.

Aster couldn’t have been more bored. He figured since Jack was by far the biggest halfwit of the Guardians he’d be the easiest to signal and eventually draw in. He didn’t need any help like the boogeyman did, but guilt was settling into the pooka as he felt the misery for his state from his new hiding place. He had to show them he wasn’t dead without giving them a reason to throw him back into the group, so naturally satisfaction was unmatched when Jack had finally given into the call, quickly summoning up a tunnel for old time’s sake. His eyes moved with the boy’s ever-gangly form as it hit the ground with a hard thump.  
The pooka rifled through his mental supply of one-liners as his sharp eyes focused in on Frost. Apart from having the same short and skinny physique, the boy’s white hair was now swept back by the wind. He’d since traded in that hoodie with a deep blue trench coat over an ivory button-down shirt, and the once threadbare pants of since unidentifiable cloth were now made of threadbare denim. He continued to look like a product of times past, as if he struggled each day to fit in with the kids he longed to please so much.  
Aster, on the other hand, had a rather new appearance that he only had to grow used to over time. His once pristine fur was quite scruffy now, and the blue in it was now an unmistakably dull grey. Shadows collected under his eyebrows so that his bright green irises seemed to glow like neon as they bore into the boy. His body, sprawled across his throne—a guilty pleasure he simply had to create—was adorned with brown straps that stopped abruptly at his hips, a leotard bejeweled with since-cracked and faded gemstones. Shoulder pads attached to a butterfly wing-like cape accentuated his domineering disposition. His arm guards remained, however, and a scrap of his old bandolier fastened around his thigh like a garter, holding his old hunting knife as he twirled his famed boomerang in his adjacent paw. He was so much more invested in more advanced weapons he’d long since created to get to where he was now.  
“Nice of you to finally drop in,” Aster offered with a smirk, remembering how much the boy savored awful puns.  
“Ha ha,” came the sarcastic laughter from a voice still too experienced to come from such a young-looking spirit as Jack slowly approached. Aster soaked in the disbelief with a sweet smile as he switched from lounging to fully sitting on his throne, adorned with ancient designs and large, blossoming flowers that seemed to perk up as Aster’s spirits rose. He’d been rehearsing this reunion for longer than he would’ve liked to admit. With half-lidded eyes, he offered out his paw as the boy approached the steps below the throne. He was met with a confused hesitation.  
“Go on,” he drawled, never seeming more relaxed since the day the Guardians had helped him prepared for Easter. His long ears fluttered in self-adoration as his hand was kissed in reverence.  
“I know it’s a bit silly, but it’s how I’m used to greeting guests now,” Aster lied. “I’ve been quite busy since you left, y’know.”  
Jack blinked in surprise before scoffing.  
“Wait, you don’t think we abandoned you, did you? I mean, how were we supposed to know Pitch hadn’t killed you in your weakest state—you didn’t even make contact until last week, and just with me!”  
Aster raised his brows as if he were a parent unimpressed with a temper tantrum.  
“I didn’t summon you here to argue, Jack. I think you and I both know we shouldn’t waste time fighting when one of us could disappear in an instant. C’mon, give me the hard-hitting questions already. In return, I’ll give you a grand tour of the new place, how’s that?”  
He watched Jack go through a range of emotions in an instant—relief, anger, melancholy, worry, before his face finally settled on determination. He nodded as Aster stood up and stepped down, still having a few good feet on the kid.  
“Okay, so uh...how’d you get back to normal? Except for the clothes, I mean.” Jack floated along as Aster strode across the marble floor of his new abode. The pooka has modeled it after Versailles, searching for spell after spell before finally willing it into existence, topping off every last detail with pastels, flora and enough rococo-style decor to drive any nightmare king to madness.  
“Simple,” he replied, his fingers woven together as he admired his hall of paintings (all his own, naturally), and pristine marble sculptures of gods and monsters, a reminder of the world he once belonged to.  
“I got my powers back to my full strength after getting rid of Pitch.”  
“Wait, so you banished him?” Jack asked in disbelief. “How’d you do that yourself?”  
Aster’s smile suddenly tightened. “Banished” wouldn’t have exactly been his word choice.  
“Played by his game and pulled the rug out when he wasn’t lookin’.” Aster smirked and elbowed Jack playfully. “But crikey, did I miss you three, and poor Sandy...how’re the other two holdin’ up? I wanted to show myself so much sooner, but it took ages to get my strength back...”  
“Th-They’re pretty good!” Jack answered reassuringly. “I mean, we still miss you like crazy, and we had a funeral—I mean, we really thought you were dead...” His voice drifted off as he started to hang his head.  
“Hey...” Aster swept his cape back, bolts of silk cascading across the floor as he sank on his haunches til he reached Jack’s level. “Chin up, I’m still here. All those awful memories can just fly away now. Just think of me as a whole new Aster.”  
Jack sniffed a bit as he looked up. “Aster?”  
“Oh, I forgot, yeah. Aster’s the name I was born with. Bunny just sorta went along with my job. Cute name, but Easter’s clearly not around anymore, so...Aster’s what’s left.”  
Another look of hesitation before Jack nodded slowly, accepting the news. “So does this mean you don’t care about Easter anymore, or what?”  
“Strewth, of course I do. I miss bringin’ it to the world every day. But now two generations of kids have since grown up without it while I was too weak to continue doin’ it. I don’t know what the point would be now. Seems like the humans have a firm grasp on it from here, as plastic as it may be.”  
Aster smiled as he glanced out a window at his waterfall of acrylics splashing onto intricately carved ancient stones. Now he only painted on canvases. All the googies he used to chase were long since smashed, and as hard as he tried he couldn’t manifest more when he got his powers back.  
“And you’re just gonna stay a hermit like this forever, then?” Jack asked, the irritation showing in his eyes as he took in all the splendor. “What happened to the workaholic I knew who depended on hope as if it strung him together?”  
“Alright, I don’t think that’s fair, Jack. Flowers may not be as bright and beautiful as before up on the surface, but they still come around every spring, yeah? That’s me. And I’m only just now getting my strength back, little by little, and rediscovering parts of myself I didn’t know I had. I’ll come crawlin’ back up to civilization soon.”  
Jack didn’t look completely convinced. It was then that Aster realized he’d barely taken his eyes off his paws since he’d kissed one of them earlier.  
“You alright then, mate?” he asked, an unmistakable shudder in his voice. His fingertips had been permanently stained with nightmare sand ever since he’d gotten rid of Pitch once and for all. The nightmares showed in the shadows surrounding his eyes, too, and his feet, the tips of his ears. Every now and then it would leak from his nose and mouth like a living tar as he ate, though Jack couldn’t see that.  
“Hey, Bu—uh, Aster, how did you defeat Pitch, exactly?”  
Aster swallowed, his paws shaking as he felt his throat grow dry.  
“I already answered that one, remember?” He chuckled hastily. “C-C’mon, hit me with another one.”  
“I don’t get it—I know you’re still Bunny, you’re not Pitch in disguise...”  
He was right. Aster wasn’t Pitch at all.  
“I think I should be heading home.”  
Aster heaved out a sigh of relief. That was definitely best.  
“I’ll let Tooth and North know you’re still around.”  
Now that wasn’t ideal. Not with what Jack was seeing. And it was so minimal, yes, just black fingertips. Could be soot from the fireplace, or dust from his charcoal sketching, but then again, nightmare sand was unmistakable. It had a life of its own, the way it sparkled and clung like a magnet to one’s body, if one was consumed by it.

**He has to go.**

**He has to go.**

**He has to go.**

Aster’s mouth twitched as he shook his head at his insistent conscience. His gut was always right on these things, but always so annoying when it came to visitors.  
“I didn’t banish him.”  
His voice was much colder now, and it even sent a chill up Jack’s spine.  
“What...what did you...”  
Aster hadn’t tasted fear in a while, but God was it ever a treat.  
“I ate him.”  
He couldn’t imagine such a pale boy could defy the ranges of color so quickly. Green looked oddly fitting on him.  
“No, you...what?”  
“That’s right. He wanted me to be his little plaything—a ferocious little rabbit in a cage that could keep him entertained as he regained his strength. Of course he had to put nightmares in me to keep me compliant, and with the remaining belief I had left I was just the perfect size for him.”  
Aster’s eye twitched as he recalled his body—not quite the rabbit he was when he last saw Jack but not any taller than the boy either. He looked just as he did when the pookan genocide occurred. Defenseless, hopeless, completely vulnerable.  
“He didn’t have the nightmare sand to keep me still like he would’ve liked, and I’m sure he could’ve done without all the screaming and crying as he kept slamming his body into mine. You can really feel your body pulsate afterwards when you’ve got this sand running through your veins. Ugly stuff, truly, but I’ve had years to get used to it.”  
He took in Jack’s utter shock as he watched him start to crumble to the floor.  
“Where was I? Oh yeah, so when he was done and I was shaking in a heap, I remember feelin’ so ferocious, so beast-like, just like he wanted me to be. But his mistake was in not caging me up right then and there, because as he was resting, well...I just ripped him right open. If you get the internal organs out in the right order the struggle stops pretty quick, y’know. And it’s not like the final battle made him mortal, but with the lack of nightmares he had now he couldn’t exactly just keep on living. And maybe you’re right, Jack. Maybe there’s a bit of him inside me, but he’s taken a backseat. It’s still me, just with new tricks up my sleeve. Can’t say he tasted particularly good, by the way, but as a bunny I was never meant to digest meat in the first place.”  
A puddle of saliva from Jack’s dry-heaving had manifested on the floor.  
“Oh—and that’s the thing about hope, too. I realized I’d been lying to those poor children. Sometimes it doesn’t get better at all. Sometimes you need to face life’s constant disappointments and betrayals—I don’t know why I’m preaching that to you, since you ruined my final Easter, but that’s all water under the bridge now.”  
He could barely stifle his laughter as he placed his hands on his hips. “I think I pull the whole nightmare king thing off a bit better than Pitch though, yeah? And don’t worry, I don’t make a habit of eating spirits I don’t like. That was an isolated incident, and I’ve since calmed down tremendously.” He bit his lip in mock worry as Jack finally found his words.  
“Bunny—“  
“Aster.”  
“I don’t want us to face you like...like we faced Pitch.”  
“Oh good, me neither. You know how competitive I can be, so I’m not even gonna tease that. We are gonna hafta do somethin’ about you flyin’ off and telling them what I’ve been up to, though.”  
Aster tapped his chin in thought before he seemingly brightened.  
“I know! I’ll just take care of you like I did with the other spirits who tried to save the day by tellin’ on me.”  
Aster paused to savor Jack’s fear again before finally setting his laughter free. “Don’t be daft, mate. I’m not gonna eat you. Again, isolated incident. Nah, you’re goin’ in the garden.”  
He quickly uttered a few interplanetary incantations before Jack could silence him, heaving a sigh of relief as he was met with a marble sculpture of Jack Frost just as he opened his eyes. His spirit was stuck in there, but the stone was quite tough—after all, it held all the other spirits who tried to get in his way over the past thirty-odd years, and he could only barely hear their muffled screams. They all gave up eventually, after all. And now Jack was quickly replacing the groundhog as his favorite statue.  
“Alright, let’s get you outta the middle of the hallway.”  
Aster pushed the boy outside with a grunt, making a few minor adjustments before standing back to admire his handiwork. It lined up perfectly with Sandy’s marble-encased form, since the Guardian of Dreams got his very own pedestal. The nightmare king grinned and nodded at the two in acknowledgement before starting back towards his remarkably comfortable throne for a well-deserved nap.


End file.
